Differences
by LimeshellsAreLazy
Summary: There had obviously been something about her for her to have gained Archer's attention. Kimbley ponders what this was, and what she had been missing that sparked the divorce. Can he do any better? ArcherKimbley.


Though the room was dark Kimbley could clearly see that it was both clean and well furnished

An: It's been a long time since I've attempted to write something long term. As I've erased my last fic I decided to start a new one. This was inspired by many amazing writers that I have the privilege of knowing. Such as RedWalGrl-RG and GreyLiliy. I'd like to apologize to them in advance for degrading their inspiration into a fanfiction. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway!

Disclaimer: Kimbley belongs to Hiroku Arakawa. Archer belongs to Bones Studio.

The Half of My Corazon

Though the room was dark Kimbley could just make out that it was both clean and well furnished. Thick maroon curtains draped over the windows, only allowing small speckles of moonlight to flood through their openings. Not enough to guide his way, as he stubbed his foot against the couch's side. Evidently he couldn't see as well as he thought he could. The light switch flicked on and the Alchemist seethed, the drastic change of light causing his eyes to squint.

"You should try to become better acquainted with my couch, you will be getting to know it on a far more personal level" Archer stood at the doorway, amused by the other's misinterpretation of his surroundings. Shutting the door behind him he wormed out of his coat and hung it on the rack at his side.

Kimbley yanked off his blazer and tossed it on the love seat.

"Though my other various pieces of furniture are less significant to you then the couch I suggest you treat them just as well."

The halls were flooded with a soft hoarse laughter; Archer briefly noticed that Kimbley had the voice of a chain smoker. "Is it just me or is it kind of crazy for a guy to care so much for his shit? You're kind of scaring me there buddy. And I ain't scared easily"

"No" Archer stated flatly, struggling with the top button of his dress shirt. "No I suppose you are not. But that is a quality that is useful in a soldier. Which you are about to become once more. I would think that you would be able to take a joke however Kimbley. What, do you think I am mad?" Archer slowly unlaced his boots and sat them by the door, then walked past his newly acquired room mate and into the kitchen.

Kimbley laughed once more, following him casually. "It's kinda hard to take a joke from someone who has no sense of humor. Though I gotta admit it is find of funny to meet someone who cares more about his damn couch and less about a serial killer in his living room. In a sick kind of way…"

The milk was no good, which was a shame. A tall glass of warm milk was the absolute best way to get Archer to sleep. Alcohol was second best, but he had to get up early the following day and didn't want to risk a hang over. That and he didn't want to risk giving Kimbley alcohol. "You of all people should know that there are different kinds of humor. Really it depends on the person… or people… that you are associated the term with. You would be surprised… I think we have similar senses of humor… For we find amusement in things that would disgust somebody else"

"Somebody with _morals_?"

"Morals _too _depend on whom they are being associated with. I have morals. I am morally obligated to do anything to gain myself further power over this country, even if it means slitting a few throats and recruiting a few murderers. Do you want something to eat?"

A shrug cascaded down the Crimson Alchemist's shoulders. A crooked smile lay plastered across his face. "I don't think that I have morals. I make the decisions that I do because I'm curious of the result. Sure some of the actions that I've taken have been beneficial, for example working along side Greed and now working under you. However I could have very well refused and ran off on my own. Probably would have been found. Then they would have executed me for sure. I still wonder how that would have been. As a scientist I've always been fascinated with the probable outcomes of a situation… Oh, I guess if you're willing to make it. Can't cook for shit"

A scientist was an intuitive and intelligent man whom wore white coats and glasses. Try as he might Archer could not see Kimbley as a scientist. Not with his rough sandpaper voice, his thick accent of slang, his tacky clothes. Really did he let the Homunculus play dress up? It looked like he mugged a drug pusher! "That is quiet _fascinating_. Don't bring it up again. It is late and I am horribly frustrated. I'm not above shooting you… ugh, normally I would not cook this late but I suppose I need the itis to get me to sleep tonight…" There was some left over aromatic spinach linguini…

"Oh you mean like _arthritis_?" Kimbley sat down at the other's bar and fiddled with a small rooster salt shaker.

"I do **not** have arthritis!" Archer snapped, his head popping out from the refrigerator. Pulling the leftovers out from the bottom shelf he carried them over to the stove to properly heat them. "Say something like that again and you'll have far worse problems then sore joints! I am not that much older then you are."

"Perhaps you're going threw a mid life crisis." Kimbley did not know when to quit. He licked his top teeth thoughtfully and picked between them with his thumb as the other shot continuous glares at him. Lot safer then bullets. "You know what I mean don't you? Some guys purchase fancy cars. Others cheat on their wives. You reinstate a condemned serial killer and chimera…"

"If you are going to just sit there and insult me as I cook", Archer warned, "Then do not. Look around my house if anything else! Just get the hell out of my hair!"

Well wasn't that a warm welcome. The Crimson Alchemist pouted until a clove of garlic was tossed at him. Moving from his seat at the bar he wondered into the living room. Ah, but he would spend so much time in the living room as it was. And from what he could see it was down right boring. Why not explore other aspects of the Archer home? After all that couch was probably still upset over the ordeal. It needed its time to relax. Because furniture had feelings. Kimbley laughed, imagining Archer having to apologize to his toilet every day after taking a shit, and wondered down the hall.

Three doors. A master bedroom, a guest bedroom, and a bathroom lay behind them. Well those weren't very good prizes! Oh but behold there was a door number four! Slowly he edged towards it, his body reacting as if he was doing something he shouldn't have been. Perhaps he was? Was there something behind this door that Archer would not want him to find? Weapons? Cocaine? Scandalous ladies underwear?

Kimbley found none of these things. It was a simple hallway closet full of coats, uniforms, and a couple of boots. Oh and a few shoe boxes. Struggling to hoist himself up Kimbley managed to pull one of them down. And surprise surprise a pair of old shoes laid inside. "Damn it. Is he really this boring!?" Tossing the box into the closet sloppily it caused something to slip from the high shelf and bonk him on the head. "Augh. Damn book" Just what kind of book was it anyway? Probably _Learn How to Conquer Countries for Men With No Lives. _

That book was not found to his dismay. Though Archer probably had it somewhere else, it was just a matter of finding it. No what he had found wasn't a book, but rather a photo album. Squatting down on the floor he flipped the cover open and was surprised to actually find photographs inside of it. Well come on what would Archer take photos of? Couches? Did he have a couch fetish perhaps?

Well there were a few couches within the photographs. There was an abundance of scenarios that had been captured in film, though for the most part they were of Archer and his family. Turning it over Kimbley's suspensions were confirmed, '_Family Album_' was engraved into the fine leather on the cover. Turning back he continued to flip through the pages and skim the contents. However there didn't seem to be anything interesting.

On the second to last page, however, Kimbley found something quiet interesting. Perhaps it was a birthday party? It appeared that way, for their was a piece of cake in front of Archer and a ridiculous party hat perched upon his head. This wasn't even the best part either. For sitting aside him was a young woman laughing at his distinct frown and attempting to feed him his cake. Down below there were more pictures of her, a few of them she was sharing physical contact with Archer. Was this a sister? No, she would have been in the earlier photos. But she had to be somehow related to the furniture fondler if she was in this album…

"Holy fuck" Kimbley gasped, starring down at the album. "Frank you didn't tell me you were _married_!"


End file.
